Clearly, the Syrians aren't responsible for the massive bombing in Beirut. Also, I am the reincarnation of the Babylonian god Marduk and an ardent supporter of both Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton (D, NY) and Sen. Edward Moore Kennedy (D, MA).

Opinion Poll
I recognize now that perhaps I was not as clear as might have been desirable. Ryan Hershey and the to-be-named middle aged guy are not the same person.

{a.} Ryan Hershey (Chaffee does not appear to have struck a positive chord with anyone) is a 23 year-old graduate of the University of Michigan. He is a native of Holland, Michigan and now resides in Grand Blanc, Michigan. He moved there after graduation and began working as a mid-level manager in some or other faceless corporation, a position he does not at all enjoy. He got good grades throughout school, earned a college degree, got a well-paying job, and thoroughly detests his life. Well, detests might be a little strong. But he is sad all the time and profoundly lonely. Not my most creative character, I know, but he is intended for a joint project I have undertaken with Neutral Man and Captain Malice, a study in malaise and alienation. (However, a "meeting" held last weekend to discuss the project resulted in no discussion of the project; so, I may revamp poor Ryan and relocate him to the universe of In Search of the Perfect Lesbian.)

{b.} Other Guy is in his mid-thirties, married with no kids. He need not be white, he could be anything. He lives in suburban Detroit; so, maybe he's Chaldean. He works an inoffensive job and lives in an inoffensive home. I would call his taste in music offensive, but most people would call it normal. He was an athlete in high school, but not a jock. His neighbors like him, his coworkers like him. He loves his wife and she loves him.

He is a good, decent man who made one terrible mistake. He wasn't driving drunk. He wasn't speeding. He wasn't asleep at the wheel. He just inexplicably drove through a red light and crashed into the the side of Scipio Winter's mother and stepfather's SUV, killing her but leaving both men virtually unscathed. He was haunted by the accident and nearly destroyed by guilt. The judge saw his regret and sentenced him to no jail time for what had been truly an accident. He apologized to the stepfather and the Winter family (Mr. A.P. Winter and his six children) and tried to move on with his life.

He was a good, decent man who made one terrible mistake. One bright January morning, Livia, Cato, and Scipio Winter kidnapped him from outside his own home and murdered him. His body was never found; his greaving wife had to bury an empty coffin. The police suspected the three eldest Winter children, but had no evidence of a murder, much less evidence tying them to said murder.

I need a good name for this man; I like some of the suggestions given in response to the previous post.

Oh yeah, happy Valentine's Day, everybody.